S A M U E L
Sam looked at the handkerchief around his hand, turning it this way and that; he did not receive many gifts (or indeed, any) and even the small gesture was enough to make him smile wide.
"Thank you, then. I can wash and r-return it, though..." He mumbled almost automatically, never wanting to be a bother. Still he brought his hand down and curled his fingers around the cloth, his other hand holding his parasol closer. He was about to make excuses to leave, when...he couldn't help the frown at the question.
"...I..um." Isla had been very helpful so far, not to mention kind. He usually hated to discuss his affliction or show any evidence of it, but she didn't know that. With a sigh, he nodded then opened his mouth, pointing to his sharpened teeth. Mouth still open, he tried to speak. "Don' 'oouch 'em. Sharp."
I AM THE OCEAN CLAWING AT YOUR MOON
